Altering Fate
by HuonParticlesAreHarmless
Summary: Death, aka Azra'eil, has given his second-in-command, Ezekiel, a task: To change the course of history for the betterment of humanity. Of course that's easy. Note the sarcasm. Hopefully he'll get the help needed for this, or there is going to be some ridiculously powerful beings after his ass. No pressure. At all.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello readers. It's been a while and this finally came out of my muse. The bitch was kind of holding out on me, so please don't hurt me.**

***Ducks inanimate objects and rotten vegetables.***

***Brushes herself off* Anyway, hope you enjoy it.**

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><p><strong>Year 8045, 7th of January:<strong>

"You want me to WHAT?" the man/archangel, Ezekiel, exclaimed incredulously. "Are you mad?!"

He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of the being looking at him with more than a little amusement. He halted for a minutes to glower at the humanoid form commonly known as Death, or when he liked to mess with people, he was known as Azra'eil Malak al-Maut, for daring to smirk in amusement. Then resumed pacing agitatedly and grumbled about immortal beings with nothing but time on their hands and other not-so-nice adjectives about them.

Ezekiel sighed and decided to flop gracefully in the chair in front of Azra'eil's desk. He scowled fiercely at him and crossed his arms in indignation. "I'm glad this amuses you," he sneered. "Why couldn't Harry do it? He is, after all, our main representative to the other departments."

"He has," Azra'eil replied dryly. "Thirty times, in fact," he shook his head in exasperation. "Even having the 'Golden Trio' together for the task exacerbates the problem."

Ezekiel sputtered, eyes wide in shock. "You're serious?"

Being the _mature_ and _intelligent_ person that he is, Azra'eil ignored the pun and answered. "Think the Big Bang, but more catastrophic. Like Armageddon bad, or Ragnarök if you will."

Ezekiel gaped. "Thirty times!" he exclaimed. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Sighing, the immortal being opened a drawer to pull out a full, unopened bottle of Firewhiskey and two simple, medium sized tumblers. Pouring one finger of the amber liquid, "I know," he agreed before knocking back the shot and poured another to knock this one as well with barely a grimace. Gesturing to the other glass as an offer of hospitality, Ezekiel accepted, though he would normally decline. As it was, this was looking to be one of those times as he took the glass. Especially with Azra'eil rarely, if ever, partook in alcohol; these ones were four times stronger than those from Midgard.

Summoning the corked liqueur to him and poured two fingers worth before banishing it back to the desk. "So…?" he took a small sip, feeling the liquid burn its way down his throat. "Why me?" Leaning back knowing this was going to be a long discussion, if he had anything to say about it.

Pouring himself three fingers worth, took only a sip this time, thinking about the an answer. Azra'eil exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Because you are the key," he answered cryptically. "The one to lead along with Michael."

Rolling his eyes. "Really?" Ezekiel drawled, taking a small pull. "How…delightful."

Azra'eil shrugged. "Well that, and you understand."

Ezekiel scrunched his face in confusion. "Understand what?"

Azra'eil straightened, almost holding himself stiffly. He looked towards his glass, swirling the amber liquid, then locked his violet eyes with Ezekiel's own piercing green. "Because you understand the bigger picture, as well as the minute details," he explained, then snorted in amusement. "Plus being sorted into Slytherin must count for something and not the almost sort that your descendant had. Though being Slytherin's heir is a bonus."

Ezekiel's only reaction was an agitated twitch of his pearly white wings. Raising a brow, "Fine," he sighed. "What year?" he asked, he ran his right hand through his hair.

"1963," he tilted his head in bemusement, before his eyes narrowed, "January 9th."

Ezekiel said, "Where exactly am I being placed?" feeling the ominous tingle down his spine. He hoped he was wrong, though he rarely was, with these kinds of portents.

"Cokeworth, England," Ezekiel had resigned acceptance in his posture. "Spinner's End."

He nodded with a wry smile. "Severus Tobias Snape, then," he stated matter-of-factly.

Azra'eil smiled in sympathy. "His life touched many others, whether they be for good or ill," he paused in thought, before continuing. "He never had a chance, did he?"

"Does he know?" Ezekiel's voice coming out as a mere sad whisper. He stood up abruptly, suddenly needing to distance himself and strode towards a large window; it showed a few children playing tag with the sprites. He stood watching but not really seeing.

Azra'eil moved towards his friend and advisor with both glasses, handing the one on his left, filled half-way. He stood shoulder to should with his best friend.

"Yes, he does," he affirmed. "And said that it would've been an honour to be your ward."

"Son," the archangel countered.

The Death entity blinked. "Pardon?"

"Son," he repeated. Ezekiel rubbed his face with a tired sigh. "If I'm doing this, I'm not doing it half-assed. Not like this anyway."

Azra'eil beamed at him. "Great!" it was said a little to loudly and quickly for Ezekiel to not be suspicious.

The archangel took a deep breath and exhaled gustily, turning his head to look at the deity's profile. "Am I to be without, but the clothes on my back?" he asked suddenly.

Azra'eil, knowing his best friend well enough to know it wasn't the end of the discussion, just that it would be off the table, answered, for now. "Of course!" he huffed. " The Goblin Nation will recognize you as the rightful heir and Lord to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell," he smirked. "The original to boot."

Ezekiel gave him a blank look at first before it turned calculating. "You _knew_," he stated matter-of-factly with a tight voice. There were days when he felt that he should just press the Big Threaten-y Button That Must Never, Ever, Ever, Ever Be Pressed; this is one of those days. His posture radiated a sort of danger that many likened to kicking a Runespoor and expecting it to be subservient, because that really was a good idea.

Note the sarcasm.

Azra'eil winced in anticipation, knowing that his friend would feel manipulated. Hopefully Ezekiel's ire isn't directed at him, even the other department heads had been wary of his second-in-command.

The archangel had known something was going to happen, especially when Myrddin looked at him like a cat caught the canary after they had passed each other in the corridor. He sighed internally, but took it in stride outwardly. Ezekiel promised himself to think about the possibilities when he was alone.

He looked at Azra'eil with a wary look. "How long?" his tone of voice very flat, making the other squirm in guilt. Ezekiel hid his amusement from his boss's fidgeting, knowing he would never live this down.

The Death entity winced again and gave him a wan smile, "It came up in the Department Head's meeting a few weeks back," he snorted in amusement. Then answered the unvoiced question, "Myrddin Emrys."

Ezekiel chuckled softly, shaking his head in exasperation, making Azra'eil relax his muscles. "I knew that man was crafty," smirking as he remembered the prank James and Sirius had helped him concoct. It surprised him when Nicholas and Perenell joined their shenanigans.

Azra'eil felt a foreboding feeling from that, frankly, evil smirk.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," this was said with utmost innocence, something Azra'eil hadn't fooled one bit and it showed on his face. "Alright. James, Sirius, and I gave him Canary Cremes," grinning all the while. "I don't understand what got his knickers in a twist."

"Probably being turned into Delores in a frog suit didn't help, instead of the standard yellow canary," he said so dryly that it may as well have been a desert. He sighed with fond exasperation. "Who helped?" knowing that out of the three, only Ezekiel was genius in potions but tended to healing and cures. But with only the occasional prank and battle ones thrown into the mix.

Ezekiel chuckled in remembrance of why the two alchemists had joined their rag-tag group.

"Nick and Penny."

"The Flamels?!" Azra'eil exclaimed incredulously. "Why?"

"Apparently, Myrddin had embarrassed the two with a tasteless one," he grimaced along with Azra'eil. "Yeah… Though he did apologize profusely, they wanted revenge."

Azra'eil snorted. "Remind me to never get on two's bad side."

"Noted."

Both men contemplated after the silence had stretched, though it was far from uncomfortable. Ezekiel thought about the mission, he knew the humans were fighting each other to oblivion. It never did cease to amazed how much destruction one can cause another, even in his past life. His oldest brother, Antioch, owned the Elder Wand and with it, a bloody history was borne. Then the second oldest, Cadmus, he received the Resurrection Stone, where he went mad with grief as he summoned his dead wife. Eventually, he stopped for it caused her great pain, she did not belong with mortals anymore.

Azra'eil studied the former wizard before him and thought back to that faithful day where the Three Brothers were attacked by a pack of rabid magical wolves. It was through sheer ingenuity that they tricked the wolves into drowning themselves in nearby river. He had never seen such skill and self-preservation in the face of danger that he had to meet them himself.

Azra'eil had introduced himself and they in turn. He wanted to reward and test them individually and it came in the form of what the wizards called the Deathly Hallows. Though the misnomer of combining all three was always entertaining, it just meant when the person died, they were automatically sent to his department for an interview and evaluation. No muss, no fuss.

Ignotus, as Ezekiel was known back in his world, was the only one who had no selfish desire for power or the dead. It never ceased to amaze him, the sheer arrogance and ignorance of wizards.

Because, really? Master of Death? _Them_?!

He chortled inwardly. Then blinked, he needed Ezekiel to get ready and warn him about the few precautions he'll need in the world he'll be living in. Azra'eil cleared his throat.

Ezekiel snapped out of his daze and straightened in his seat. "Yes?" their eyes met.

"I must caution you of the dangers," the Death entity began. "The atmosphere is more racially charged because of the recruiting Riddle is doing at this time. With the High Lord's return, you, many will turn to you for guidance."

The archangel looked incredulous.

Azra'eil nodded in agreement. "I know. The sheep need a shepherd, for the fox is hiding amongst the flock," he replied cryptically.

"And you've hanging around Confucius a lot," Ezekiel retorted. "Your proverbs are showing."

He shrugged. "At least what I'm saying makes, not a random platitude."

Rolling his eyes. "I suppose," he sighed. "Anything else?"

"Trust your instincts, they're usually right. Being my advisor must count for something."

Ezekiel snorted. "So scaring most of the people in limbo was just for shits and giggles, then? Not turning their life around for something better? Because that would be just ridiculous."

He smirked and shrugged. "Dunno," then continued his warning. "Though you are essentially immortal, you can still get grievously hurt or ill."

"Lovely."

"Indeed. Try not to kill people that irritate you, Azkaban is not a day spa for the criminally insane."

"Noted," he responded sarcastically.

Azra'eil smirked, then his face softened. "Learn to enjoy this second chance. Saving the world does't have to be tedious. Become a Shaolin master for all I care," he held a hand up to quell the protests. "Just make the most of your allotted time."

He sighed and nodded in acquiescence. "If that is all? I must prepare," when he received a nod, Ezekiel left closing the door softly with a click.


	2. Windows: WPD's

**Disclaimer: If I owned this, I wouldn't even have student loans to pay off. *sigh***

**A/N: Hello again. I'm finally done with my finals, this should be updated on a gular basis. _Should_ is the operative word.**

**Anyway. Hope you you enjoy.**

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><p><strong><span>CH. 1: Windows-W.P.D's (Weapons of Personal Destruction)<span>**

There were the days where he threw people out of windows for the smallest infractions, probably not the most healthy way of dealing with anger and frustration, but it was his. Too bad he couldn't throw Merlin into the portal during the witch hunts. It would serve him right.

As if sensing his uncharitable thoughts on his person, Merlin looked at him with an uneasy smile. He kept his face blank, making the older wizard wince. Azra'eil snorted. Taking pity, he gave a small smile to Merlin and he beamed back.

Ezekiel looked at the four assembled near the portal, a rucksack with Extended Undetectable and Preservation Runes stitched inside, it was filed with various healing potions, one hundred thousand galleons, a year's supply of food, and seven pairs of clothing. He was given a goblin-made dagger with an emerald encrusted pommel, leather wrapper grip, and a simple double-quillon guard, it was sheathed in a basilisk hide right leg holster.

Michael, who was manning the control panel along with Gabriel, gave a small encouraging smile; while Gabriel beamed brightly and a friendly wave. The other two were Merlin and, not surprisingly, Azra'eil, who stationed themselves at the foot of the ramp. They both smiled warmly at his appearance.

Merlin, or Myrddin Emrys as he was called in the times of King Arthur Pendragon, took a step towards him. "Zeke," the man greeted, voice warm and eyes twinkling. "You'll do great," he smiled.

"I'm blaming you if I cause the apocalypse on accident because I had an apple on Tuesday," he replied dryly.

The older man clapped him on the back chuckling. "The Chaos Theory will behave itself," also known to have the sub-tenet of the Butterfly Effect. A very complicated phenomenon in which quantum mechanics that doesn't have an exact pattern.

Ezekiel looked at his skeptically. "And Delores Umbridge will advocated for magical creature and mundane-born rights."

Azra'eil smirked smugly and spoke. "The Big Guy upstairs said it would."

Raising a brow in question. "The All-Father?"

Gabriel snickered. "The other one," he laughed.

Both eyebrows were creeping towards his hairline. "The Lord of the Sky?!" he exclaimed incredulously. "Why would he meddle? Circe above! We usually clean up after the git because he adds more chaos!"

Michael rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Not _that_ idiot," he said with disdain. "No, I mean _Him_," he added an emphasis on the pronoun.

With widened eyes, "Oh," Ezekiel breathed with reverence. "Adonai."

"Indeed," he agreed with the same reverence.

After some careful thought, he still didn't understand why the King of kings would do such a thing. The Lord of All did move in mysterious ways, he thought. Shrugging, he moved closer to the already opened portal up the iron ramp, then turned around to address them one last time.

Looking to Merlin. "So I guess this is goodbye," he stated with a smile. "At least for now."

With a good-natured huff of breath, pulled Ezekiel into a tight embrace.

"Don't be a stranger, alright?" his voice a tad gruff at the end.

Ezekiel who was at first surprised, returned the embrace with equal fervor and buried his face into the crook of Merlin's neck.

"As long as you bring your wife's brownies," he muttered into the man's beard.

Merlin chuckled, then let go with shoulder squeeze. "Of course," his eyes twinkling like stars in the midnight sky.

"Oi! My turn!" Azra'eil proclaimed then proceeded to glomp onto Ezekiel. "I don't want you to go," he murmured against the death angel's shoulder and sighed.

Ezekiel sighed in turn. He knew that Azra'eil had issues with abandonment, it was days like these that he felt older that the other immortal being.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it," he reassured and began to squeeze the other in arms until Azra'eil burst out laughing. Ezekiel smiled down at the bright violet eyes. "Alright?" with a small smile, nodded and pulled away.

"Don't take unnecessary risks," Azra'eil warned, wagging a finger at him.

With a playful scowl, "Yes, mother," he grumbled.

He grinned when Azra'eil punched his shoulder. He knew it'll be hard on other being, but he'll be okay. And if not, Azra'eil can always tag along when he got lonely or bored.

The other two had been waiting impatiently for Death to be done, charged towards him in a group hug. They murmured and said the oddest warnings to him, as well as those that were already a given; those were instructed as if he were a bit slow.

'_And they said the afterlife didn't have a sense of humor_,' he thought shaking his head.

Letting go and one last wave, Ezekiel took a deep breath and walked through the glowing portal.

The sensation felt like a combination of a transporter from Star Trek and the Stargate from Cheyenne Mountain, but no disorientation and was user friendly on the stomach, which was nice.

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><p>The alley was a dark and dank place, crawling with the usual nasties: a mangy cat, huge rats, and an over abundance of creepy crawlies. Suddenly the air-rippled, then a bright light encompassed the area, making the residents hide at the clearly powerful energy. It coalesced into a tall man with shoulder-blade length, raven-black hair. As quickly as it came, the light blinked out. The man looked to be in his thirties, he had a dark and dangerous aura about him as he took in his surroundings with hard viridian eyes.<p>

"Huh," the man muttered, noting no present danger.

Casting a _Tempus_, it showed: _Wednesday, January 9th of 1963, 9:37 p.m._

Not really wanting to stay in the smelly alley, he moved towards a nearby lamp post to gather where he was. Then blinked. And again. Nope still there.

He shook his head. "Sneaky bastards," he grumbled good-naturedly.

For standing there, in all its very cra—erm Manchester-y glory, was the childhood home of Severus Snape. One that currently had a man bellowing incoherently at someone, while a woman was pleading.

Not wasting anymore time, he ran towards the house, hoping against hope that he wouldn't arrive to tragedy. As he cast a quick Alohamora, the scene he caught in the living room made him pale.

"You'll get yours, you bitch!" the man, who could only be Tobias Snape, snarled with a manic light in his eyes.

He pointed a gun at a very distressed Eileen Snape née Prince.

'_Shit_,' Ezekiel thought rather aptly.

His split second paralyzed shock was more than enough for the crazed man to pull the trigger, the bullet piercing through and out her lungs. She staggered backwards, hitting a wall in the process. Her hand coming up to her chest before she slid down, coughing up blood.

"NO!" Ezekiel shouted in denial, his hands already coming up and producing a stunner strong enough to throw the man against the other wall, his body slumping in an unconscious heap.

Ezekiel ran forward, kneeling next to Eileen and took hold of her hand. The dying witch cough again, staring up at him with widened and surprised eyes.

Taking a wheezing breath, "Have…you come..to take…me away…Death's Second?"

Other than the slight widening of his eyes, he took it in stride and tilted his head. "Not me per se," he spoke softly. "Azra'eil should be escorting you soon to the Elysium fields. You should rest."

Thinking about how she could have known, he came up empty. He hadn't been to Midgard since the Tumblr Explosion. And even then, it was for the incident concerning a certain consulting detective and his blogger. Never understood the thrill of bungee jumping, till I tried it with the sociopath. The mostly good high-functioning one. I still wonder how John was able to forgive the wanker.

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><p>In half a century later, said man sneezed violently.<p>

"Bless you," a sandy-blond man said to him.

"Oi! Don't contaminate the scene!" a rather ferret face man with brunet locks snapped.

The raven-haired man narrowed his eyes in befuddlement, before focusing on the case before him.

"Oh, go play with your mistress, Anderson," the raven-haired man retorted not looking up from the body he was examining closely. "You lower the IQ of street when you talk."

Anderson sputtered in anger.

While the DI just sighed in exasperation. "Children. I work with annoying children," he muttered morosely to himself.

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><p>Another wheeze snapped Ezekiel from his disparaging thoughts and pushed it to the back-burner. Taking another shuddering breath, Eileen spoke. "Help…help my…baby…take care of him…please," she pleaded.<p>

Ezekiel swallowed thickly, a lump had lodged itself in his throat.

"I'll try," he managed to croak out.

"Thank *wheeze* you," Eileen gasped out, taking her hand and caressed his face, leaned into clammy touch.

She smiled before convulsing, the whole body shuddering as blood had gurgled up at the corner of her mouth, her organs shutting down, even as her chest stilled. Her eyes deadened, body going limp.

A sob was wretched from Ezekiel as cried for the life lost, he sat next to cooling body, struggling for a few moment to regain his composure. A faint whimpering cry snapped him from despair and frustration.

He had to focus! He'll have a breakdown later, when everything was settled.

Taking a fortifying breath, stood and walked in the direction of the sniffles.

Bright verdant eyes met wide onyx ones. The child was pale, tears have long since dried down cheeks and three-year-old Severus Snape tilted his head to the side as he watched Ezekiel.

The archangel moved slowly into the room as not to scare the boy, but the toddler just looked on in curiosity. Ezekiel crouched to the boy's level at two feet away, knowing Severus might not want a stranger so close, especially a man at that. Both stared at the other, Ezekiel wondering what to do now and Severus wondering if the man was going to take him away from the scary man who hurt Momma.

"Hello," Severus spoke softly. He thought the man looked not of this world, but he felt safe with the him. His large dark eyes, conveying a level of innocence that are usually associated with pure souls.

The archangel gave him a warm smile in which the boy returned with a tentative one.

"Hello," Ezekiel responded in kind. "I'm Ezekiel. I've come to take you away to live with me now."

To his eternal surprise at the trust, given the level of abuse the boy had probably went through his father, the child launched himself into Ezekiel's arms with the man instinctively wrapping his arms around the boy protectively, as regained his footing from the impact.

"Oof!" the raven-haired man grunted, cradling the child firmly to him. He felt the slight tremble and whispered nonsense into the boy's black locks, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Severus relaxed immediately because of the calm and comfort Ezekiel exuded.

The man slowly and stood with the boy who firmly latched himself to Ezekiel, burying his dark head into the archangel's chest.

"Are you an angel?" Severus murmured.

Ezekiel stiffened in surprise, making the boy tense before the man rubbed the child's back. Severus relaxed only a little bit. "I am," he confirmed. "How do you know?"

"Your wings," he stated simply.

Glancing over his shoulders, Ezekiel saw that, indeed, there they were. He looked back at his charge, very surprised. Sensing Severus' unease, "It's fine. Just surprised," he smiled warmly to emphasize the point, making the boy beam brightly as he finally relaxed in his Ezekiel's arms.

Only of the purest souls, and invariably, children because of their untainted innocence. Even then, his were special that only a select few can see them due to a subconscious need of testing on who to trust.

Apparently, Severus had earned the archangel's though he may be a mere toddler.

"Would you like to feel them?" he asked the boy.

Severus nodded eagerly, Ezekiel complied by encompassing them both with the wings that were hued like fresh-fallen snow; though they had the most ethereal glow to them before slowly fading into the wings themselves.

The raven-haired child caressed the one to his right reverently, his eyes showing the wonder only a child can show.

"Pretty," he breathed in awe.

Ezekiel just chuckled in amusement as he carded his fingers into the soft, dark hair, relaxing the child even more to the point of falling asleep in the angel's arms.

'_Well that was interesting_,' the immortal being thought amusedly.


End file.
